Feed the Machine Read Online Free PDF Page B

him the junk had started creaking, protesting and transmitting the sound of something coming closer.
    Ash emptied half his pack, the precious wealth clattering down into the dark. The winch on his harness stopped groaning. He looked up. Raj was ahead of him still but not accelerating away so fast. Ash closed the pack and slipped it on telling himself it didn’t matter he’d lost so much. If they were caught by Scabs, they’d be tortured or killed or maybe made into slaves to dig the junk until they died of starvation.
    He still had enough to get clear the quota. Enough for food and more bugs. He could return for the rest with Raj after Feed. Hope the Scabs hadn’t climbed down and taken the watches for themselves.
    Ash willed the winch to pull him faster. Raj reached the top, briefly blocking out some of the sun and clambered up. He looked down at Ash and waved his hands.
    “Scabs are fucking coming!”
    The climb was torturous. Ash wanted to grab the rubble to pull himself out. There was no point dumping the pack now—the winch wasn’t going to lift him and Kin to the top any faster.
    Raj was kneeling on the edge, his hand outstretched. Ash saw him look up, his eyes widen and in a clatter of junk he stood and vanished.
    Half a meter to go and Kin leapt, dug his claws into the side of the hole and scrambled out. Moments later Ash grabbed the edge, the winch pulling him up as he dug his feet into the hole and hauled himself over. He stood and turned around.
    The Scab was covered in scars. He was only young, not much older than Ash himself but years in the Scour had dried out his skin. His body was disfigured by old wounds sliced open, packed with dirt and clay, spiraling lines and dots running up his torso, down his arms. His skin was a deep burned brown, leathery and when he bared his teeth at Ash from the far side of the hole, he saw they were sharpened to points and tipped with metal. The crossbow in his hands was half polished metal and half fused junk. The bolt was a steel rod sharpened to a point, fine metal fins running down the length of it.
    Ash stopped breathing, his heart thudding wildly. All the Scab had to do was pull the trigger and the bolt would go straight through his heart. He’d fall, dangling by his ropes in the hole, soon to be pulled up and eaten at leisure.
    Ash heard noise behind him—footsteps on metal—receding into the distance. Faintly he heard Chirp shouting fuck no . There were other voices too, men and women yelling from the other side of the hill behind the Scab.
    “Meat,” hissed the Scab and licked his lips.
    A flash of black, like the shadows of the hole had birthed a demon. Kin was on his face, slashing with his sharpened claws, howling with fury. The claws that could easily pierce metal ripped the fragile skin of his face apart, tore at his eyes. The Scab yelled, waving a hand up, reaching for a monster he could not grasp and as he fell backwards he pulled the crossbow trigger.
    Ash felt a thud and a prick of pain as the bolt leapt the distance. It pierced the pack, breaking watches. It was held back from killing him by broken metal and his father’s pack. The Scab crashed to the ground and dropped the crossbow which promptly slid off the edge of the hole.
    He grabbed for Kin but he was gone, leaping across the hole, landing near Ash’s feet.
    “Cut the rope!” he howled.
    Ash pulled up his cutter and slashed away the rope connecting him to the pinions. It parted under the beam.
    “Run,” Kin yelled, halfway up the side of the depression already.
    Ash turned and scrambled up behind him, the junk sliding under his hands and feet. Pain blossomed as he grabbed sharp edges but it was distant, overcome by the roaring of blood in his ears, the harsh pain of his breath in his chest. The Scab bolt was still sticking out of the pack, the sharpened tip pricking his stomach.
    He reached the top and saw Raj. He was running down the other side, crunching through the junk, Chirp flying